


Highway to Hell

by iam93percentstardust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: After discovering that the reader is dying, (s)he makes a deal with a demon to live another ten years. Several years later, the reader makes another deal to save someone else’s life, not realizing that (s)he has discovered a loophole in the contract.





	Highway to Hell

You were sixteen when you found out you were dying.

The neurologists gave it a fancy name that you couldn’t remember--something veinous anomaly. Essentially, they said, there was a tangled knot of veins in your brain. Left unchecked, it would keep growing and eventually kill you. But it had to be left unchecked. As the doctors explained it, any attempt to remove the knot would damage something important irrevocably, leaving you a vegetable. There was no way around it.

You would be dead before you were twenty-one.

For the first year, you were angry.

For the second year, you traveled as much as you could.

For the third year, you rebelled, burying yourself in sex, drink, and drugs.

For the fourth year, you fell into depression.

But your twenty-first birthday was now approaching. You weren’t dead yet but it would be coming any day now. Your memory was the first to go followed by the loss of movement in your left hand. And you realized that you weren’t ready to die.

So, instead, you stood in an empty crossroad at midnight, holding a box in your hand.

You’d done the research. You knew that you needed a black cat’s bone, a pinch of graveyard dust, and a photograph of yourself. You hadn’t taken a photo in years, hating how ill you’d looked, but you’d consented for just this one instance. You knelt to bury the box in the exact center and then straightened back up.

You didn’t hear anyone coming but a silvery voice behind you said, “What brings you here?”

Surprised, you spun to face the speaker. She would have been the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen if it weren’t for her red eyes. You supposed that they could have been contacts but you didn’t think so, somehow. As it was, she was still gorgeous, in a creepy way.

You glanced around to make sure you were alone. Then, you asked, “You’re the Crossroad Demon?”

She nodded. “I am a Crossroad Demon, yes,” she replied, emphasizing “a.” She looked you up and down and repeated, “What brings you here?”

“I don’t want to die.”

The demon chuckled. “Don’t you all,” she stated dryly.

You shook your head. “You don’t get it. There’s this thing in my brain. It’s supposed to kill me. I’m supposed to be dead in a few weeks. I’m living on borrowed time. I don’t want to live forever. I just want to make it to tomorrow and then to the next day. I want to die in my bed when I’m 80 or something.”

The demon, who had appeared intrigued, seemed to harden. “That’s not how these deals work,” she said flatly. “I give you ten years and then you come to Hell.”

You blinked. You hadn’t been expecting those terms. Weren’t you supposed to be able to set the terms, not the demon? You recovered quickly though, as the demon started to disappear.

“Wait!” you cried desperately. “Okay. Ten years, that’s more than enough. I can do a lot in ten years.”

The demon regarded you curiously. “You really don’t want to die, do you?” she murmured. Abruptly, she nodded. “Do you know how this works?”

You shook you head. “Well, I didn’t think you would,” she commented. “Not that it matters. Crowley changed the rules yesterday.”

You had no idea who Crowley was and you didn’t care but you nodded encouragingly. The demon pushed ahead, “You formally state that you’re trading your soul for whatever it is you want. I tell you what happens when the deal expires and you accept, or not if you wish to back out, and then we close the deal with a kiss.” She eyed you closely, expecting you to be fazed by the kiss part.

You weren’t. You didn’t really care. Attraction was attraction. Sex was sex. A kiss was a kiss.

“I formally state that I am trading my soul to live another ten years," you said firmly.

The demon smirked. “Well,” she drawled. “You have ten years of a healthy, normal life. Then, I send the hounds to come and get you. You come to Hell. Don’t bother running or hiding. It won’t work.”

“I won’t run,” you said bravely.

Her smile grew nasty. “That’s what you all say.” Turning business-like, she said, “Do we have ourselves a deal?”

You nodded. Then, before you could chicken out, you leaned forward and kissed the Crossroad Demon. She was good, you had to give her that. It was almost a shame that she wasn’t human.

She pulled away, eyes seeming to glow. “See you in ten years,” she said with a grin and disappeared.

You almost didn’t believe the demon. It wasn’t until you were home that you realized you’d regained movement in your left hand. Two weeks later, you were declared completely cured and a medical miracle. One month later, you moved to New York.

Nine years passed. While studying in France, you met, fell in love with, and married an amazing woman named Marie. The two of you settled down in Paris and adopted a precious little girl from Haiti. You got a job working as a gallery owner, Marie as a teacher, and earned just enough to live comfortably.

You were driving home from work when you got the call. All you would remember later were snippets--one of Marie’s students had brought her father’s gun for Show and Tell--critical condition--unlikely to last the night.

You meant to drive straight to the hospital but found yourself at the local animal shelter instead.

“Do you have a black cat?” you asked shakily.

At midnight, you waited at the nearest crossroad. “What brings you here?” a smooth male voice asked.

You turned to face the demon. “My wife--she’s been shot,” you managed to whisper.

The demon shrugged. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Heal her. My soul for her life, right?”

He nodded. “I’d collect you in ten years.”

“Great. Then I trade my soul for my wife’s life.” You leaned forward and kissed the demon. He was just as good as you remembered the last one being. After a moment, you pulled back.

The demon looked at you oddly and muttered, “Strange,” but disappeared.

As you drove back to the hospital, you got the call that Marie would be fine.

Another year passed. You waited for your first deal to expire but nothing happened. As time went on, you forgot about that first deal and continued as though you only had the second.

Time continued its slow progress. Marie remained a teacher. You retired to focus on what you really wanted to do--writing. Jenna, your daughter, grew into a beautiful young teenager.

The eighth year of your deal approached. You now had a theory as to why no had collected on your first demon deal. It was time to test that theory.

You were in China, promoting the release of your latest book. Like the ones before it, this book was expected to be wildly successful.

You wanted to make sure that it was.

While still in China, you summoned yet another demon to insure that your book release would go well. Two years went by and you waited with baited breath to see what would happen. But no one came to collect on the deal that had saved your wife’s life. You knew then that your theory was correct.

No one could collect on your deal while another deal was in place.

Every few years, you made a new deal: a good college for Jenna, a movie deal for your books, inspiration for your next series, etc. So it went, until you neared your 90th birthday.

That first deal seemed so long ago now that, sometimes, you couldn’t even remember what you had traded your soul for. Marie had passed on by now. Jenna’s memory was starting to go. Your grandchildren and great-grandchildren looked out for you but they were just as busy taking care of Jenna.

You made your way back to that first crossroad to make one final deal: a good seat in Hell. Besides, you felt as though you owed that demon an explanation.

“Hello, darling,” a crisp male voice said. You swung your wheelchair to face the man with the English accent. He was impeccably dressed, a cocky tilt to his head. “You’ve given my demons some trouble I understand.” He regarded your wheelchair with some trepidation. “I thought it was time to meet.” He stuck out his hand. “Crowley, King of Hell.”

You shook his hand, a frown on your face. “What happened to Satan?”

Crowley snorted. “Please. That washed-up angel? Couldn’t even do the apocalypse right. There’s a new king in town.”

“What do you want?” you demanded, sounding braver than you felt.

“To make you a deal,” he said promptly. “You evaded my demons for 70 years under one little loophole. I could use someone like that. I’ll keep your soul but you’ll have full control of the Crossroad Demons. You can rewrite the rules, have a cushy seat in Hell. Better than torture for eternity.”

You didn’t even have to think about it. “I’ll do it,” you told him.

Crowley smirked and bent down to kiss your withered cheek. “Welcome to Hell.”


End file.
